The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air as Mary clutched Marcus's hand, her knuckles white against his. Her screams echoed in the small delivery room, a raw, guttural sound that struck deep in Marcus's chest. Sweat glistened on her brow, her dark hair plastered to her skin as she fought through the pain."You're doing amazing, Mary," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and helplessness. His other hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, though his touch felt clumsy and small in the presence of her strength."Just one more push!" the nurse encouraged, her tone calm but firm.Mary gritted her teeth, her body trembling as she bore down with everything she had left. The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the world narrowing to the sound of her labored breaths and the frantic pounding of Marcus's heart. Then, a cry—sharp and loud—broke through the tension, filling the room with life."It's a boy!" the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle.Mary collapsed back against the bed, tears streaming down her face as she reached for her son. The baby wailed, his fists clenched, his little face red with effort. Marcus stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the moment crashing over him like a wave."A boy..." he murmured, his voice thick. His knees felt weak as he stepped closer, his gaze locked on the tiny life they had brought into the world. "Mary, look at him. He's perfect."Mary's trembling hands reached out as the nurse gently placed the baby in her arms. The moment he settled against her chest, his cries softened, replaced by soft, hiccuping breaths. "Hello, sweetheart," Mary whispered, her voice breaking. "Welcome to the world."Marcus leaned over, one arm around Mary's shoulders as he looked down at their son. "He's strong," Marcus said, his voice filled with wonder. "Just like his mother."Mary laughed softly, exhaustion and joy mingling in her voice. "He's perfect," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead.But the tender moment quickly shifted as Marcus tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "So... what do we name him?"Mary blinked, her gaze snapping to Marcus. "What do you mean? We already decided. His name is Jace.""Wait, we did?" Marcus asked, looking genuinely perplexed.Mary's face softened as she cradled the baby against her chest. She looked up at Marcus, her voice filled with wonder and warmth. "You know," she began, her tone almost teasing, "years ago, I already chose a name for him."Marcus blinked, his brows knitting in confusion. "Years ago? What do you mean?"She smiled, brushing her fingertips gently over the baby's tiny hand. "Back then, I told you. I wanted a baby boy, and I even picked a name. Jace. It means 'Lord is salvation.' Don't you remember?"Marcus' eyes widened slightly, the memory dawning on him like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Jace..." he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue. He looked down at the baby, his heart swelling with an inexplicable mix of love and pride. "You really haven't let that go, have you?"Mary laughed softly, her eyes shimmering with tears she refused to shed. "Of course not. I knew I wanted him to be Jace even before he was born." She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's perfect, isn't it?""Well," Marcus said, leaning closer to peer at the baby, "I guess he does look like a Jace. Strong name for a strong kid."The baby stirred in Mary's arms, letting out a tiny, contented sigh.Mary looked down at their son, her eyes filled with a love so fierce it almost scared her. "Jace Locke," she said softly, testing the name on her tongue. "That's who you are, little one."Marcus tightened his arm around Mary, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Welcome to the family, Jace," he murmured, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling within him.The drive home was peaceful, the gentle hum of the car and the baby's occasional soft coos filling the air. Marcus pulled into the driveway, his heart still riding the high of becoming a father. Mary stepped out carefully, holding Jace close, while Marcus grabbed the hospital bag and followed her inside.The house was warm, welcoming, but the moment they stepped through the door, an unsettling chill seemed to snake through the air. Mary laid Jace down in the crib they had prepared weeks ago, humming softly as Marcus set the bags down near the door.Marcus' phone buzzed in his pocket. He barely noticed it at first, the glow of the screen an afterthought as he watched Mary lovingly stroke the baby's cheek. But the buzzing persisted. With a sigh, he reached for it, expecting nothing more than a congratulatory message from a teammate or a distant friend.The screen displayed an unknown number, along with a single photo. Marcus froze. His eyes widened as he stared at the image—a picture of Mary, unmistakably her, in a compromising, vulgar pose. The timestamp was from months ago. His breath hitched, confusion and disbelief warring in his mind.Captured in the soft glow of the evening light, Mary presents herself in a most provocative pose, her naked form a symphony of curves and contours. She reclines, one leg extended, the other bent gracefully, showcasing her long, lean figure and the delicate arch of her foot. Her arms are stretched above her head, emphasizing the fullness of her breasts and the tautness of her abdomen. A slight smile plays on her lips, a glance into her eyes reveals a mixture of confidence and invitation. Her expression is one of a woman fully aware of her allure and the power she wields over others. Another message arrived, this time with words: "Had fun with her when you couldn't keep her happy. Congrats on the kid, though. Hope he's yours."Marcus' fingers trembled. A cold wave washed over him as he quickly blocked the number, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of it. The air felt heavy, suffocating. He turned toward Mary, who was still by Jace's crib, oblivious to the storm brewing behind her."Mary," he called, his voice low, strained. She turned to him, her smile faltering at the look on his face."What's wrong?" she asked, her brow furrowing.Marcus held up the phone, his jaw clenched. "Explain this."Her eyes darted to the screen, her face paling instantly. She stepped closer, reaching out as if to take the phone, but Marcus pulled it back, his knuckles white as he gripped the device."Marcus, I can explain—""Explain what?" he interrupted, his voice cold and sharp. "That while we were apart, you were..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, the words choking him."It was a mistake," Mary whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "It was after we broke up. I was... I was lost, Marcus. We were over, and I—""I don't care what we were!" Marcus snapped, his voice rising. "Did you even think about what this would mean? About us? About Jace?"Mary's tears spilled over, but she stood firm. "You don't understand how broken I was. I thought I'd lost you forever. I didn't think we'd ever—""But we did," Marcus cut her off, his voice quieter now, but laced with anger and hurt. "We came back together, Mary. We fought through all of it. And now, on the day our son is born, I get this? From some... stranger?"Silence hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Jace stirred in the crib, a soft whimper escaping his tiny lips. Mary turned to soothe him, her hands shaking. Marcus stared at her, his heart a tangle of anger, betrayal, and something he couldn't yet name."I can't do this right now," he muttered, shoving the phone into his pocket and walking out the door. The night air hit him like a slap, but it wasn't enough to clear his mind. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself, but the image on the phone was burned into his mind.And for the first time since Jace was born, Marcus didn't feel joy—only doubt.Marcus stepped out onto the terrace, the cold night air biting at his skin as he lit a cigarette. The smoke curled up, mixing with his thoughts, but it couldn't clear the storm in his mind. He took a long drag, the tension in his chest growing with each breath. Everything felt suffocating, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him, and the silence that stretched between him and Mary felt louder than any words they had exchanged. As the smoke drifted away, his mind wandered back—back to the time when everything had started to unravel, when choices were made, and paths divided. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, bracing himself for what was to come. The past was always there, lurking, and no matter how much he tried to move forward, it always seemed to catch up.--It was a time Marcus could barely grasp, a blur of practice schedules and late-night training, all in the pursuit of something he wasn't sure he wanted anymore. His dream of turning pro had consumed him, leaving him a shadow of the person he once was. Mary had become a distant figure in his life, someone he saw only on weekends, her presence more like a comforting memory than a reality.The weeks flew by in a haze of exhaustion. Marcus had almost forgotten the quiet anticipation building in the months leading to the birth of their child. The baby. They had picked a name months ago, sitting together in a diner one night, hands clasped across the table, the future bright and full of hope. Jace. They both agreed on it, a name that felt right, one that would belong to their son. Or so they thought.But as high school graduation drew nearer, the days blurred together. Marcus was consumed by his commitment to the game, the weight of his ambition pressing down harder with every passing day. Every call with Mary was short, clipped, and focused on the baby, his voice carrying a note of distraction he didn't even notice. He was always making promises about visiting, about being there when the time came. But promises were easier to make than keep.Then, the day arrived. The clock of fate, ticking down the final seconds to something neither of them could change. Marcus' first qualifying match to enter the professional league was scheduled for the same day Mary's contractions began. His phone buzzed as he warmed up, her voice frantic in his ear, telling him it was happening, that the baby was coming.He stood there on the field, a choice laid out before him like a cruel riddle. The match or the birth? The decision, simple on the surface, was suffocating in its weight. His coach was already yelling at him, his teammates impatient, urging him to focus, telling him this could be the moment that defined everything. The moment that secured his future.But Mary's voice echoed in his mind, a quiet cry for him to be there. She was alone in a hospital room, struggling, and yet, he stayed on that field. He made his choice. He stayed for the match.It was the last decision that would ever feel like his own.By the time the game ended, everything had gone wrong. The final whistle sounded, but it didn't matter. The match, his dream, his future—it all meant nothing. When he arrived at the hospital, Mary was waiting for him, but not the way he expected. She was pale, her eyes hollow with pain—not from childbirth, but from something deeper.Her voice was low when she saw him, eyes full of accusation. "You chose the game, Marcus. You chose it over us. You weren't here."Marcus tried to reach for her, but the words she spat at him stopped him in his tracks."You weren't here when I needed you most," she continued, her voice shaking with anger. "You didn't care enough to even be with me when our baby... when she was born. You were too busy with your damn match!"His throat tightened. The weight of his decisions crushed him as he tried to explain, but she didn't want to hear it. She blamed him, and the words she used cut deeper than any injury he had ever sustained on the field. "If you loved me, if you cared, you would've been here. You would've been here for our daughter!"The shock hit Marcus like a physical blow, his stomach sinking as her words swirled around him. He tried to pull her in, to apologize, but she pushed him away, tears streaming down her face. "No, Marcus. It's your fault. You did this. You weren't here. You killed her.""Mary, no—" He was desperate now, his voice shaking, but she wouldn't stop."You don't get to be sorry now," she hissed, fury building in her eyes. "You chose everything over me, over our family."The guilt clawed at him, but his own anger began to build. His hands trembled, and the words spilled out before he could stop them. "I didn't make her die! I wasn't the one who—""You might as well have been!" She screamed. "You weren't there when I needed you. I lost her because of you."The argument spiraled, emotions raw, unforgiving. Neither of them could think straight, their hearts wrapped in grief and rage. All the words, all the blame, everything swirled around them, clouding their vision. It wasn't just a fight anymore—it was a war. A war neither of them could win.In the end, they broke. It was a clean break, one that neither of them wanted but both of them were too stubborn to stop. Marcus left, his heart shattered, his dreams dashed, and the life he thought he had just slipping through his fingers. He had lost the match. He had lost their daughter. He had lost Mary.And everything he had worked for seemed empty, hollow. After the breakup, Mary was a shell of herself. She wandered through each day, but nothing seemed to have the vibrancy it once did when Marcus was by her side. Her world felt gray, lifeless, like all the color had drained away with the loss of their baby. The pain of the miscarriage still stung, a constant reminder of what could have been, and she had no idea how to fill the void. She knew, deep down, that it wasn't Marcus's fault—none of it was anyone's fault—but in her heart, she couldn't help but place the blame on him. It was easier that way, to feed her frustration and anger. Maybe, if she could convince herself that he was the cause, the hurt would make sense. But it never did.Her mother, ever the supportive figure, tried her best to lift her spirits. She urged Mary to go out, to reconnect with the world beyond the pain. But Mary wasn't interested in any of it. She stayed locked away in her thoughts, her heart still aching for a future that would never come. Then, one evening, she met him. Eliot was tall, handsome, with sharp features that reminded her so much of Marcus. The resemblance was uncanny, and it drew Mary in like a moth to a flame. He had a carefree, fun energy about him, something Marcus had once shared, and that simple similarity was enough to spark her interest. It was easy to get lost in Eliot's company, to pretend that for a moment, things weren't falling apart. But the more time she spent with him, the more she knew—it wasn't Marcus. And it never would be.For a few months, Eliot was the perfect distraction. He was tall, charming, and had a magnetic personality that drew people to him. He was the kind of guy who could light up a room with his smile and made Mary laugh in a way she hadn't in months. He took her out to places she had never been, treated her to wild, carefree nights where she could forget her past. Everything felt fresh, exciting, and, for a moment, the weight of her broken relationship with Marcus seemed to lift. The scars of the miscarriage faded into the background as Eliot's attention consumed her. It was just fun, just living in the moment.But as the weeks passed, the fun began to fade into something else, something darker. Eliot's charm turned manipulative. At first, it was subtle—little things like undermining her choices or subtly critiquing her appearance in ways that made her doubt herself. But it didn't take long for his act to fall apart completely.